“Yes.” She licked her lips again.
He groaned and closed his eyes. “If you keep doing that, I won’t be responsible for the consequences.”
Relief flooded her. He still wanted her. Although she should have guessed that. The Tower of London looked more like granite than ever. “I might enjoy the consequences,” she said breathlessly. “I’m sorry if what I did disgusted you.”
He opened his eyes and stared at her in disbelief. “You can’t think I’m feeling disgust.”
“Aren’t you?”
His laugh was cracked. “Good God, the thought of you taking me in your mouth is a fantasy I never thought would come true.”
“You said ladies don’t…”
“I assumed you’d find the idea utterly revolting. After all, you were delicately reared.”
She crossed her legs and settled beside his hip. “I’m beginning to think I’m not so delicate after all. Do you mind?”
When he rolled his eyes, she wanted to laugh. “What do you think?”
She frowned. “So you’re saying you’d like me to kiss you…there?”
“If you can bear it.”
A smile curled her lips. “Actually I find the idea…intriguing.”
Hugh surged up and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her hard and long. By the time he finally lifted his head, she was dizzy. “I don’t deserve you, Jane. The day you married me, you made me the luckiest cove in England.”
She stared up into his brilliant eyes and saw he meant it. How odd. How unexpected. How wonderful. “Even after I put you through all that torture in Salisbury?”
His lips twitched, and he kissed her quickly. Jane’s wits had just started to settle. Now they were in a spin again.
“If you take me in your mouth, I’ll forgive you anything.”
Jane laughed at his outrageousness, even as a deep well of feminine longing softened her insides. He wanted her to pleasure him like this, she couldn’t doubt it. She ran one hand along his jaw, feeling the smooth skin. He’d shaved before breakfast. When he’d turned to her in the dawn, his whiskers had added a bristly touch to his kisses.
She squirmed out of his hold and inched down his body, pausing on the way to kiss his hair-roughened chest. “I’ll remember that.”
*
Chapter Twenty-One
*
Surely Garson must be dreaming when his fastidious wife stared at his dick as though it was indeed a famous monument. Despite his lurid fantasies, he’d never imagined Jane would be bold enough to perform this brazen act.
He’d been hard for what felt like hours. Dear God, she had him in a perpetual fever, even before this latest offer to rocket him to heaven. He’d expected his hunger to lose its edge, once he’d possessed her. But ever since that astonishing night of transcendent passion in Salisbury, his appetite had only increased with feeding. He became a complete satyr. Jane just had to look at him sideways, and he was ready to jump on her.
When he’d called himself the luckiest cove in England, he hadn’t exaggerated. Hell, right now, he felt like the luckiest cove in the whole world. He wouldn’t change places with the King himself.
Partly to combat the temptation to grab her, he stretched out flat and folded his arms behind his head. Protracted and excruciating torture lay ahead.
He could hardly wait.
Tentatively, she reached out to curl her fingers around his aching cock. The blast of heat that jolted him almost made him explode, and he bit back a groan. Over the last week, she’d become less shy about touching him, but he always sent blasphemous thanks to heaven when she stroked him like this.
Her expression was solemn, as if she solved some intellectual problem. The pretty blue nightdress and peignoir floated around her, adding a tantalizing touch of modesty. He loved her naked, but there was something delicious about the promise of nakedness to come.
Determination lit her silvery eyes, and she shifted to straddle his legs. Then with a languor made to shatter him, she leaned forward. A curtain of glossy auburn tumbled forward. Her loose garments gaped at the neck, providing heart-stopping glimpses of her lovely breasts.
This was the first time Jane had taken the lead. She was an eager participant in everything they did—even if sometimes he had to coax her into playing—but she let him set the agenda. Not this time. The change in their roles fed his excitement.
Anticipation flooded him, as he waited in an agony of suspense for what she did next.
What she did next threatened to blast him into a pile of smoking ashes.
Slowly, so slowly he could hardly endure it, she lowered her head. His cock jerked when the humid heat of her breath drifted across the sensitive head. She glanced up, a flash of bright silver that sliced through him like a blade. Then soft pink lips brushed the tip.
“Hell’s bells.” Surely his very blood must boil away to nothing.
She kissed him again, then every angel in heaven sang hallelujah when she dipped to take him into her mouth. A fusillade of responses zapped through him, turning him to stone. The hardest part of all basked in wet, sultry heat. The craving to raise his hips, make her take more, was nigh irresistible. Where would his beautiful wife lead him, now he let her steer the course of this encounter?
She flicked her tongue against him and tightened her grip. Then stopped and raised her head. He grabbed the headboard with shaking hands to save himself from seizing her and pushing her down. She was going to kill him.
“Don’t stop,” he choked out.
A frown wrinkled her brow. “You don’t seem to be enjoying it.”
Even through his urgency, he couldn’t contain a grunt of grim laughter. “If I enjoy it any more, I’ll burn to a crisp.”
Relief filled her face. “Am I doing it right? I want you to like it.”
How could he veer so close to flying apart in a million flaming fragments, yet still want to laugh? He wasn’t used to this barrage of emotions. Jane had this extraordinary ability to engage his senses and his feelings at the same time.
Now despite the pounding need to put his cock into her mouth, his most powerful response was tenderness. This combination of uncertainty and daring was so true to his wife.
“I’ll like it.” Even if he knew that she’d subject him to the torments of the damned before she was done. “Whatever you do.”
He cupped her cheek and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip, feeling the lush cushion of flesh give under the gentle pressure. Best to avoid picturing those lips closing around him. Otherwise he’d lose himself here and now.
Jane turned her head and drew his thumb into her mouth, rousing inevitable thoughts of what else Garson wanted her to do. When her tongue rasped against his skin, heat sizzled through him and he gritted his teeth to contain a guttural groan. Then all the air escaped him in a whoosh as she sucked.
Damnation, he’d never survive this. He closed his eyes and snatched for air until he stopped seeing colored lights behind his eyelids. The pressure relaxed, and he struggled for control. “Damn it, Jane, do that again.”
He opened his eyes to meet a speculative expression. She pulled his hand away from her mouth, pausing to kiss his knuckles with one of those heart-arresting gestures of affection that he should be used to by now, but somehow wasn’t.
Her smile set his heart slamming against his ribs. “I’d rather do something else.”
His reeling mind struggled to encompass what she meant. She turned him into a thick-witted ox. Then even the few wits he still possessed evaporated in a searing conflagration, as she lowered her head and took him fully into her mouth.
Suction. Pressure. Heat.
Garson groaned and twined his fingers in the soft mass of her hair, as he battled to hold himself back. Although perhaps next time they did this, he’d convince her to let him come in her mouth. After today, who knew what fresh sins he could tempt her to sample?
She drew harder, and he bit back a profanity. Her fist slid to the base of his dick, so th
at between her mouth and her hand, exquisite pressure encompassed his length. Excruciating pleasure tightened his balls. All he could hear was the saw of his breath and the evocative sounds her mouth made as it moved with succulent greed.
With a shaking hand, he pushed back the fall of her hair so he could see her face. Her features were set with concentration. As she took to her task with a diligence that threatened to incinerate him, her rump rose impudently into the air. The thin silk nightdress molded to her bottom, revealing every lavish curve.
At first, she was beguilingly clumsy, but soon she found the rhythm, sliding up and down his shaft. Her tongue circled his tip, and her hand cupped his balls. With every second, he verged nearer to spurting into her mouth.
“Hell, Jane, I’m too close,” he growled in a voice he didn’t recognize. “Come here.”
She sat back and licked her lips in unabashed appreciation. The sight smashed through him like a cannonade. He needed to be inside her now. Her earlier clumsiness was nothing compared to his quaking desperation when he hauled her up.
“For pity’s sake, take me.” Blatant need thickened his command before he pressed his eager mouth to hers.
*
Chapter Twenty-Two
*
Jane rose on her knees, breaking the kiss, and regarded Hugh with dazed eyes. His rich taste lingered on her tongue. How she’d relished having him at her mercy, as she’d licked and sucked him until he shook. She’d loved the physical intimacy, as she claimed him in a way she never had before. What they did in bed was wonderful, but lying beneath him, she’d always felt the possessed, not the possessor.
“Like this?” Her voice sounded rusty, and she swallowed to loosen a tight throat.
A muscle jerked in his lean cheek, and he bumped his hips up between her legs. “Ride me, darling.”
Who was she to argue? She kissed him, but didn’t linger. He was too close to the brink. She gathered her silky skirts in one hand, so she could watch as she lowered onto him. Below the pale plain of her belly, her dark red curls glistened. She was slick and ready.
His rod was large and engorged, and straight as a ruler. The head shone with moisture. Thick veins made her think of a mighty tree. A thrill ripped through her, as she recalled her tongue tracing those veins.
She shifted to find the right spot, then held him steady with one hand as she sank down. The stretching sensation was different from their other joinings because of the angle. As her internal muscles clenched, she gasped and bit her lip.
When her body closed over the head, Hugh jerked and released another of those long, hoarse groans. She stared into his face. His eyes were closed, and his jaw was set so hard that she feared it must crack. He shook as if he had a fever.
She let her skirts fall about her thighs and placed her hands flat on his powerful chest, feeling the soft friction of hair against her palms. Inhaling air that tasted of male musk, she descended. To her surprise and pleasure, he slid into her with splendid ease.
She moaned and wriggled to take him deeper. He became completely hers. To prove it, she squeezed. When he bucked, a gush of heat welcomed him. Astonished at the swiftness of her response, she felt the fluttering beginnings of a climax.
Hugh watched her. “You like this.”
It wasn’t a question. “Very much.”
She tightened her thighs and rose, relishing the stroke against the sleek inner walls of her body. The fluttering heightened to irresistible demand.
“Come for me, Jane,” he crooned.
She tensed tighter than a fist. “I don’t want this to be over.”
“We can do it again.”
“I’m starting to feel overdressed.” With no finesse at all, she tore the silk and lace garments over her head and pitched them to the floor.
“You’re magnificent,” he grated out, and she squirmed as his large hands caressed her breasts.
Jane rose and fell, then again, circling her hips. She delighted in how every time she shifted, Hugh moved, too, finding new places to stimulate. The seeking, frantic need became an unstoppable tide, and this time she swam with the rising wave of transcendent oblivion. With her next undulation, the crisis struck. She cried out as the world dissolved into luminous rapture.
As she shuddered over him, his hands slid from her breasts to her hips, holding her as she convulsed. His fingers dug into her bare bottom, and he brought her down hard. A long groan of surrender rang in her ears, as he flooded her with his essence.
Floating down from her peak, she felt the tension ease from his thighs and belly. The part of him that had delivered that unearthly experience softened. Without breaking their union, she flattened herself against his chest. He was panting, and the fresh scent of his sweat was sharp in her nostrils.
He kneaded her buttocks and gave a last, exhausted twitch inside her. “That was…extraordinary,” he said, breath emerging in jagged gasps.
She placed a kiss above his laboring heart as his powerful arms closed around her. “I like being your wife.”
The words were inadequate, but how could she express the joy she’d found? She needed to out-Shakespeare Shakespeare to do justice to the lovely things Hugh did to her.
And she did to him.
“I like being married to you, too,” he said, sleep roughening his voice. She snuggled closer and shut her eyes.
*
Another day gone, and still Jane hadn’t seen anything of the capital. Unless she counted a thorough inspection of her private Tower of London.
“Why are you smiling?” Hugh was standing at the sitting room window, watching dusk descend on the street. Or he had been watching the street. Now those gleaming dark eyes focused on her.
“Don’t you dare look at me like that,” she said, even as burgeoning female interest had her shifting on the chair. She’d found a place near the fire where she pretended to read an old Water Scott. The adventures of Quentin Durward couldn’t compete with her memories of what she and Hugh had done to pass the last hours.
He tried and failed to look innocent. “Like what?”
“You know.”
His lips twitched. “Like I want to take you back to bed?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I do.”
She blushed, although given what she’d done today, she’d surely lost any right to maidenly modesty. “We only got dressed an hour ago.”
His expression conveyed a world of devilry. “I’ve decided dressing is a complete waste of time. Tomorrow we won’t bother.”
The silly, flirtatious conversation made her want him even more. Before they’d married, she’d had limited contact with grown-up Hugh, and he’d always impressed her as a serious, thoughtful man. This vein of whimsical humor was a surprise—and irresistible. As was his innate sensuality. She’d entered into this marriage prepared for a pragmatic arrangement, not this voyage of sexual discovery.
“I’d like to keep my clothes on until after dinner,” she said lightly. “For the servants’ sake, if nothing else.”
He sighed and approached to drop a kiss on her sensitive nape. Goosebumps rose all over her body. “You’re no fun, Jane.”
Once she might assume he meant that, but she’d learned to recognize when he was teasing. “That’s not what you said an hour ago.”
His laugh held a note of appreciation. He drew a chair across, so he could sit close enough to take her book away. “Any good?”
Her lips quirked. “I wouldn’t have a clue.”
He set the book on the carpet. “So what were you smiling about?”
She lowered her lashes. “The Tower of London.”
For a moment he looked thunderstruck, then he burst into delighted laughter. By the time he’d settled down, she’d risen to pour them both some claret.
“Thank you.” As he accepted the wine, the brush of his fingers was a caress. He slouched back and studied her, the glass dangling from one large hand. “I thought you went dress shopping with Susan.”
As she resumed her seat, she cast a rueful glance at her gray gown. “I did.”
“By God, I hope you made a pauper of me.”
A self-derisive laugh escaped her. “Far from it. I didn’t find much that I liked.”
He looked disappointed. She could imagine he was nearly as sick of her uninspiring wardrobe as she was. “Didn’t you order anything?”
She shrugged without enthusiasm and took a sip of her wine. “An evening gown.” And wished she hadn’t. The yellow taffeta with busy black trim made her look like a wasp. “And two day dresses.”
His lips lengthened in disapproval. “Susan got a little too insistent, did she?”
Jane ignored that, although it was true. Her sister had rejected anything Jane leaned toward ordering as too fast for a young matron. “I’ll try again. I don’t want to let you down.”
The prospect of the knowing smiles when Lord Garson’s frump of a bride appeared in public made her pride cringe. She might know she was second best, but that didn’t mean she had to look like she was.
Oh, dear, she’d been so happy. Now bitter reality battered at the door and barged inside without an invitation to make itself at home. She much preferred the sugar-spun fantasy where her husband thought only of her and was overcome with joy that he’d chosen her.
“You’re a credit to me, whatever you do, Jane.”
Jane only just resisted saying how kind he was. He didn’t like hearing that, even if it was true. She made an apologetic gesture. “I thought of getting some new dresses before the wedding, but the village seamstress is as woefully ignorant of current modes as I am. I decided I’d wait until we got to Beardsley Hall and ask the local ladies where they buy their clothes. Then plans changed, and we came to London instead.”
“It’s hardly an insurmountable problem, sweetheart.” Hugh set his glass on a side table and took her hand. “We’re at the heart of a worldwide empire, and I have plenty of money. I’m sure we can lay our hands on a few bits and pieces to bring you up to scratch.”
She summoned a smile and told herself that he didn’t mean anything when he called her sweetheart. “I’ll ask Susan if she wants to come shopping again.”
Lord Garson’s Bride Page 15